


That Kind of Love

by OnlyHereForGallavich (orphan_account)



Series: Gallavich Week 2K17A [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Day 7, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, GW2017A, Gallavich, M/M, People Finding Out, week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/OnlyHereForGallavich
Summary: So while they didn't explicitly tell her they were roommates, they didn't tell her they were together, either. But she figured it out, eventually, step by step.





	That Kind of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Soo with mixed feelings, I post my last fic for this gallavich week!! 
> 
> Didn't want to do the usual Gallaghers finding out about them, so I went for an OFC instead, who I really like?!
> 
> Enjoy, I love you guys x

When Ian and Mickey decided to move out of the darkness of the Southside, it was too abrupt to be well planned out. The boys had already moved into their own place just a year ago, but with their less than ideal finances, it had been an absolute shithole. Not just a shithole, but a dangerous one. After Mickey had nearly been shot in an armed robbery, Ian refused to stay there any longer. He made it quite clear to Mickey that any protesting would be futile. So he sighed and agreed, and they pooled up all their money to get the lease of another place. Mickey kept commenting how that money could have been used for months of weed, but Ian shut him up.

They couldn’t afford the lease for the entire house in the new, and much better, neighbourhood they had moved into. So they ended up with one floor in a huge house owned by a classy widow who reminded Mickey of the woman who had shot him in the ass, albeit nicer, but still extremely odd. The room had three bedrooms, so it was easy for them to pass off as roommates. She was Northside, and so was probably either less prejudiced, or better at hiding it than people in the Southside. However, the boys had fear drilled into them from the stories they had heard from other gay couples about being turned down _because_ of their sexuality. The boys loved the house, and it was the best in their price range. So while they didn't explicitly tell her they were roommates, they didn't tell her they were together, either. But she figured it out, eventually, step by step.

  
1.

There was a great burst of noise when the two boys walked into the house that night. Although they never entered her half of the house, she could hear their voices echoing down the stairwell, bouncing off the walls. There was a brief pause as they greeted her through the glass window, and she replied in kind. Then, the emphatic talking began again.

People may now simply see her as Marla Snyder, the senile widow, but she was quite the gossip monger as a young girl. Her inner curiosity won out, and she darted out of her door to walk up to the common terrace, which allowed her a clear view of the boys’ floor within earshot. It took a moment for them to appear, and the redhead immediately disappeared into a bedroom, returning with a first aid box. He forced the little pit-bull-like brunette to lie down, pulling up his t-shirt and revealing a bloody gash.

Marla had never been squeamish; she _had_ actively served in the army after all, and scarcely blinked at the wound. The ginger looked more concerned about the wound than she, or the victim himself were. He cleaned the wound gently, raising his hands every now and then, presumably to scold the man in front of him. The brunette, Mickey was it? just watched him with a fond smile, occasionally wincing in pain.

When he was done, Ian packed everything up and seemed to shrink a little in both relief and exhaustion. Mickey just rested one hand on his shoulder, soothingly, and it seemed to work. Ian relaxed, wrapped an arm around Mickey’s waist and helped him to one of the bedrooms. The tenderness between the roommates was unexpected, seeing as they were both ordinarily aggressive to a certain extent. It left her both intrigued, and curious.

  
2.

Interest piqued, Marla decided to invite the two boys over for dinner. They had just moved in a few weeks ago, and she hadn’t had the chance yet. She had already began heating up a ready-made pot roast she had bought at Whole Foods (they didn't have to know that, and she doubted they could cook any better.) She put out the place settings, lit up a candle or two and turned on some music she was told was likable. She was a fan of louder music that they now characterised as ‘hard rock’. But this evangelical, soothing melody was probably much more suited to her facade.

They showed up exactly when invited, at nine ‘o’ clock on dot. It was actually kind of sweet, the way they nervously showed up in their best shirts, all tucked in and neat. It was reminiscent of what she had dreamed of for her old age, adult children showing up to meet her every now and then. Of course, that was a passing fancy seeing as she was barren, but it was a little bit of wish fulfilment nonetheless.

They handed her a bottle of rather cheap wine, the taller one even bending over to kiss her cheek with some hesitation. The tiny one froze up at that, afraid he would have to do the same. But they shared a look of understanding where she absolved him of any such duty, much to his apparent relief.

Dinner was only awkward for some time before she shared she had been in the army, and began regaling them with stories of her time there. They looked absolutely surprised at the revelation, as most people did. Marla did not appear a hardened veteran, but then again, she was quite different from what she projected.

A little later, after they had satisfactorily complimented the cardboard like food, she went to fetch dessert; chocolate mousse (again, Whole Foods.) When she returned, her glance fell below the table to where the boys’ legs were pressed against each other’s, feet rubbing softly against the others’.

Coincidence? Marla thought not.

  
3.

The next hint came as Thanksgiving did. Marla had half expected an invitation from the boys, but none came. They didn't travel either. In fact, Thanksgiving in their house seemed rather sombre. There was no turkey, no party, and no celebration at all. Marla herself attended a celebration at a relative’s house, much to her dismay; it seemed to be the socially appropriate thing to do.

When she returned, the house above hers was silent. She walked up to the terrace to catch some of the last breaths of autumnal air, but froze at the door when she saw the terrace was already occupied. The two boys looked distracted, distracted enough that she didn't feel prone to getting caught when she watched them from the doorway.

She crept slightly closer, their words just barely touching her ears now.

_“I'm fine, Mick.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Seriously.”_

_“Okay.”_

The redhead laid one arm onto the small table on the terrace, pressing his cheek against it. After a moment’s pause, the brunette ran his fingers through that brilliant orange hair a few times before tracing the unspoken cues of his body down his spine, and across his arm, tracing patterns on the pale skin. Another few moments, and Ian intertwined his fingers with the Mickey’s, and they rested there, together.

Quietly, but quickly, Marla retreated from the terrace. It was becoming increasingly clear that what was between those two boys was too special to be witnessed by her.

  
4.

New Year’s brought with it a party above her house, and an invitation to attend. Marla wasn't sure about it; it had been a long time since she had partied in the way the boys’ New Year’s party promised. But the moment she had heard a song by Metallica ringing down to her house, she made a split second decision to follow it upstairs.

She was welcomed, brightly, loudly, by the small army of people that were all in some way related to either of the boys. They offered a drink, gasping in shock and appreciation when she offered up the 1954 champagne she had dug out of her husband’s ‘secret’ stash, and swore to use it as their toast when the midnight hour struck.

Needless to say, it was a much better time than she would have had at the stuffy ball her sister-in-law had organised. It was loud and disorganised, and brought back wonderful memories of the best times of her life.

Soon enough, the radio rang out _10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1- Happy New Year’s!_

Marla looked slightly to her right, catching sight of something that made her smile. The two boys were lying on the couch, a little away from everyone else, caught in their own world. They were kissing, passionately, in a way that suggesting they had started before the actual countdown itself. They seemed lost, suspended in time, and when Marla saw them, there was no surprise or shock. Just a quiet feeling of _oh, of course._

And so the old widow Marla Snyder, who had no one to kiss that night, went down the terrace and thought of her first love; her endless brown eyes and straw colored hair, and silently thanked the two boys for reminding her what that kind of love looked like.

 


End file.
